


dead men face no consequences

by saintpyrite



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Gen, Non-Graphic Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 00:41:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28591191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saintpyrite/pseuds/saintpyrite
Summary: Wilbur has to remember, if he's going to save anyone.(written pre-5th Jan Festival)
Relationships: Clay | Dream & Wilbur Soot, Eret & Wilbur Soot, Karl Jacobs & Wilbur Soot, Niki | Nihachu & Wilbur Soot, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit & Phil Watson
Comments: 15
Kudos: 120





	1. dead man's words

_ "It was never meant to be."  _

The rain poured down, washing away snow and blood into the chasms below. Wilbur had watched the festival unravel, loose threads tied up as Dream came upon the residents of L'Manberg with the wrath of God, his pale white knight of Death by his side. 

Wilbur couldn't do anything to help, he wasn't armed and he wasn't in any position to fight back against a God and his chosen knight. Instead, he watched helplessly as his friends and family were rounded up, chained and bound as if they were vicious creatures rather than children of war and circumstance. 

Watching the way his son called out to him, it ripped through his heartstrings and tore him asunder. Rushing to the front door, "Where are you taking them, Dream?" 

The masked man paused to stare at the spirit. Reaching up, Dream lifted his mask high enough to form teeth in a way that could cut through you when he grinned. The rain around him, it was as if it parted just for his sake rather than dare touch him, it wasn't human.

"Pandora's Vault," Dream said with a chipper tone, as if he wasn't condemning people as judge, jury and executioner, "My world has no room for rebellion anymore, Wilbur. That ended with you." 

"Imprisonment though?" Wilbur whispered, his brows knitting together into a frown and his lips pressed tight together. "How will that solve anything?" 

"Deprive the flame of oxygen and it'll go out," Dream smiled and if it had been any other day, Wilbur would have smiled back. "I'll take good care of every single one of them and they'll be returned safely once they've learnt their lessons." 

"Every single…" Wilbur trailed off, uncertainty gnawing away at him, "Who else have you taken, Dream?" 

That's where it ended, a chuckle that played over and over again in the back of Wilbur's mind. It was as if Dream had never left, leaving Wilbur to process what was going on. 

It was clear, Dream was taking people he deemed dangerous by force. One by one, he was picking them off and trapping them in four walls with no escape, guarded by wardens he deemed worthy of such power. 

_ How many people had he taken already?  _ Wilbur thought, quill tapping against the scrawled notes in his book.  _ Who else could he want?  _

_ (They took Tubbo and the rest of his cabinet today; they took my little boy...)  _

When the rain stopped, Wilbur took to every corner of the world for signs of life. He found Karl alone in El Rapids, trying to keep up a bright smile because this man trusted Dream once and he had to do so again, if he wanted to believe he'd see the return of his friends.

"What happened here?" Wilbur looked around, there had been a fight that much was obvious. He could see the grass trying to soak up elixirs and potions, discolouring the green with vile browns, purples and reds. 

Karl toyed with the drawstrings of his hoodie, "Punz came looking for Sapnap, figured it was a knight thing or whatever." 

Wilbur didn't know Karl well, he'd just seen him around L'Manberg every so often and ever since the recognition of El Rapids, even less so than before. He had always been so chipper and eager in the few times they'd crossed paths though, a shape contrast to how he was trembling now. 

Patting the step next to him, Wilbur went in his little satchel to pull out a small bag of blue to give to the unnerved man, "Take some blue, calm yourself." 

Lithe fingers clutched at the bag, running his thumb over translucent cotton before Karl managed a grateful smile, "Uh, thanks."

"So you're telling me Punz took Sapnap?" 

"Not just Sapnap," Karl frowned, opening up the bag and running the fine clear powder between his fingertips until it turned blue, "Dream showed up and they took George too, I don't understand why. I haven't seen Quackity all day either." 

Wilbur let out a soft hum and reached up, ruffling Karl's hair the same way he did with Tommy. If his touch was cold like a winter's day, Karl didn't complain and he let himself be comforted by the spirit. 

"Do you think Dream will hurt them?" 

"No," Wilbur said, voice strained with a smile as false as the one on Dream's mask. He buried his fingers in his satchel, finding himself the sweet release of blue to ease the pain. 

_ (I don't remember them but from what Karl said, Sapnap and George were his friends. You don't just lock up your friends like that, it isn't a nice thing to do.)  _

The ghost wandered the lands for as long as he could, as far as he knew people resided and he talked to people, old familiar faces and new ones alike. 

It's how he found the prison in the first place, the warden pacing the front gates. He doesn't recognise the man, dressed up in green and gold but there is a hazy sense of familiarity as if he's met him once before. 

"Hello!" Wilbur is chipper, he isn't afraid because he can't die, "Stranger, hi!" 

The man looks up, scratching at the green of his skin and offers a worrisome smile back, "Oh, Wilbur, how did you end up all the way out here?" 

"I'm exploring!" Wilbur laughed, adjusting the strap of his satchel before holding a hand out for the man to shake, "I'm afraid I don't recognise you, friend. What should I call you?" 

"Oh, yeah, the memory thing," the creeper-man chuckled in response, his nerves eased when he realised Wilbur was no threat to him. "Just call me Sam, so what brings you so far out from L'Manberg?" 

"I was trying to find Friend," Wilbur smiled, it was believable enough, "I was going to ask Technoblade but I got a little lost on my way there." 

"Ah, I wish I could help you there but…" 

The spirit didn't miss the way Sam's body tensed, the pair of them gazing up at the grand design of the prison looking over them. A great shadow of authority and structure that would promise them nothing but four walls that you couldn't escape from. Wilbur took it in, determined to remember no matter how horrific the thought was. 

His son was in there, he couldn't forget. 

"I guess I'll be on my way then!" 

Sam nodded, clutching his trident tightly in his grip, "Take care of yourself, alright?" 

"Of course," Wilbur smiled, "It was nice meeting you, Sam!" 

It wouldn't be the last time, Wilbur was certain of that much. 

_ (Today, I'm going to tell Phil and Techno, they'll know what to do. I'm sure Tommy will want to help Tubbo too.)  _

They were gone. 

If Wilbur was alive, his blood would have run cold but instead, he settles for the tension in his body as he stalks through the house. There are signs of a fight, the chests tossed around and glass crunching under his foot. 

It doesn't take him long to find a shred of fine silk fabric, it's from Technoblade's cloak or maybe it's Phil's cloak. He can't be sure, either fills him with a sense of dread. There are no signs of Tommy either, his room is empty and his bed overturned. He must have been hiding before  _ he _ came for them. 

Dream had been here, it was obvious and judging from the absence of his family, he'd won. 

Wilbur can only imagine the tricks Dream pulled, Phil was far too experienced to allow himself to bow to the whims of anybody without just reason and Technoblade, for as long as Wilbur can remember his father's close friend, had always being resilient and untouchable in a way that rivalled the gods. Don't even get him started on Tommy, the boy was a hurricane in his own right. 

Clutching the sleeves of his sweater, Wilbur fought back the waves of panic as he breathed in deep, eyes welling up with tears. He searched for anything, any sign of what they were doing before Dream had captured them. 

That's where he found Techno's notebook, his scrawl familiar and comforting. All little notes on Tommy's progress, ways to help Phil during his father's house arrest, plans for his vengeance against L'Manberg. 

_ Destroy L'Manberg _ , the scrawl at the bottom read, furious and enraged as the ink bled into the next page. 

Wilbur felt his chest tighten, ribs of an old vessel closing in on the lifeless heart. It wasn't the implications that got to him, the clear motivation that fuelled his friend's actions but the clear familiarity. 

_ "Tommy, let's be the bad guys,"  _ played in his head like a stuck record,  _ "It was never meant to be."  _

History often repeated itself, was Techno planning to follow in his old footsteps and bring down the country he had founded and destroyed with his own hands? 

Wilbur supposed he couldn't now, if Dream had him. He couldn't decide what was worse. To repeat history or try and control the outcome of the battle, as if this was a puppet show and Dream was the puppeteer making everyone dance to his whims. 

He'd done the same with Wilbur, had he not? 

_ (Techno has a few journals here and there, one of them mentions a cliffside a few times. I think if his plan was to destroy L'Manberg, he probably has the resources to do it.)  _

Finding the cliffside had been difficult, Wilbur had explored the winter wilderness for hours until he'd stumbled across it. The cliff had been flat, smooth under his fingertips as if reconstructed by a stonemason. 

That hadn't tipped Wilbur off though, it had been the button he'd leaned against. His weight had been enough, triggering the door mechanism.

_ "Holy shit!"  _ Wilbur had startled, stumbling forward as the door revealed the chamber, filled to the brim with resources. "Techno, you mad man…" 

Cautious, the spirit entered the base and peered at the walls. Wither skulls, dormant but raw with magical power, hung like mere decorations. There was enough here to summon a frightening amount of Withers. It'd be enough to wreak havoc on a city. 

_ (Dream took my friends and family. I have to do something, even if it means remembering.) _

Phil's old home was quiet, sullen and empty with the door wide open, swinging in the breeze. There was nobody around, even Niki had fled to the barren lands of Dry Waters to evade the horrors of coming back to a ghost town she'd called home. 

He'd taken what he needed from Techno, he could pay him back later. There was a heaviness on his shoulders that wasn't the gunpowder or the wither skulls, a familiar sense of dread and chaos lighting up his cold body, a spark that was waiting for flint and steel to ignite it into a burning blaze. 

He found it. A small chest in the back, filled with old belongings once property of Wilbur Soot. 

A sword crusted with blood that had aged, his own blood; an old flag, tattered and frayed at the ends; a uniform of a General and once President. 

A coat. Worn and torn, a clean cut through the back from a sword. A black hooded cape stitched into the thick fabric. 

"You kept it," Wilbur whispered, melancholy gripping him. He reached into the chest, taking the coat from the pile and gazed upon his legacy. 

Putting on the coat and his resolve strengthened, the spark ignites. 

Wilbur is a wildfire and he will tear through the world Dream has made, he has nothing to fear. 

There is nothing to fear, as dead men face no consequences. 


	2. operation envoi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wilbur makes a deal with the devil.
> 
> (A/N at the bottom of the chapter.)

Books record history and history often repeats itself, Wilbur has found. He's found himself nestled away in an old cavern with his supplies scattered in the rubble, singing a national anthem he'd written once in the place he'd destroyed the foundations. The writing on the walls reminds him because here, he cannot forget. 

_I've spent my time remembering the worst of my memories, I haven't touched any blue in weeks now._

Wilbur taps his quill against the page, splattering small ink blots on his trousers. He'd taken up writing everything he could remember again, both the good and the bad this time. 

"Wilbur," a voice calls out to him, soft and familiar. 

His eyes meet Eret's own, the king making his way through the crumbled iron that once blocked the entrance to the remains of Chekhov's Gun. There is an old part of him that tenses, defensive around the man in question but with few people left, Wilbur wholeheartedly accepts Eret into his life as a steady constant. 

"Hey, Eret," he says, smiling as he puts the book away into his satchel. "You're far from the castle, aren't you?" 

"I wanted to make sure you were okay," Eret ran his fingers over the grooves in the wall, tracing his name from the anthem with a frown. Looking over at the spirit, "Clearly you're not." 

"I'm fine, Eret, you don't have to keep coming to check on me." 

"Wilbur, you're surrounded by wither skulls, soul sand and TNT," Eret deadpanned, gesturing around the room. "It's like watching history in motion but _worse_." 

He wasn't wrong, wither skulls stacked high and bags of soul sand pushed against crates of explosives. It looked far worse than what he'd read about Chekhov's Gun, the destruction here could bring a place down to bedrock. 

"The prison is built up out of obsidian, layers upon layers of it and that's not counting the magic I can sense in there," the spirit mumbled, "I need the withers to break it and cause a diversion for the guards. A small chance is a chance nonetheless."

"Sounds dangerous," Eret said, concerned. He shouldn't be, dead men can't die twice but it's nice, a warm feeling that makes Wilbur smile. It's one of the rare moments where he feels he could forgive Eret and let bygones be bygones. 

"Will you try to stop me?" 

Eret laughed, low and deep in his chest. Picking up a wither skull, turning it in his hands, "No, for once, I'd like to help you." 

"Welcome back, Eret." 

_(Eret has supplied me with weapons, with withers and soul sand and gunpowder. He has given me his company and his promise, a room in his castle to shield me from the rain. I wonder if Phil is proud of me this time, forgiving traitors and fighting tyranny in the wake of repeating history.)_

Wilbur doesn't want to involve anyone else, he doesn't want anyone to get hurt if he's being honest. He tried to convince Eret to leave him be, that Operation Envoi didn't need unnecessary casualties if Eret got caught in the crossfire. 

The man didn't listen, maybe out of loyalty for his newfound friendship or maybe it was a selfish wish for redemption in the eyes of the man he'd betrayed. 

"Can't it be both?" Eret said with a smile, pained but sincere as he gathered their growing collection of wither skulls. 

"Doesn't one make you more selfish than the other? Doesn't that bother you when selfishness and self-preservation is what got you in my bad books to begin with?" 

Eret let out a soft hum as he thought on it, "I think it's okay to be selfish sometimes and right now, I want to be selfish. I want this person to forgive me and give me this chance to help him out, to redeem myself in his eyes for my wrongdoings and prove myself worthy of his friendship again. I want my friend back."

The spirit watched him, the way Eret's body held itself like Atlas holding the world. He hadn't realised Eret felt so strongly in regards to his betrayal, how it weighed on him just as it weighed on Wilbur. Their eyes met and Wilbur felt himself smile when Eret smiled. 

"Is that so bad, Wilbur, to be selfish?" 

"No," Wilbur decided, "No, it isn't." 

_(An envoi is the end of a poem, a final say. This is my final goodbye to Dream's tyranny. I will return my friends and family to me; I will end this once and for all, that's my selfish wish.)_

There is no real way to feel prepared for what's about to happen. 

His coat sways in the gentle winds, old and worn with holes from the explosion. He flies his country's flag proud on his arm, the strength of L'Manberg proving itself once more as the patch hadn't budged an inch. 

He carries his family with him; Phil's sword sits on his back with Tommy's bandanna tied tightly against the handle. He keeps Techno's axe too, the man is family if by spirit and not blood and the same could be said of Tubbo. 

The prison looms overhead, it's a terrifying sight as if the shadow of such a place would swallow him whole and trap him in its void. If he had come alone, Wilbur may have feared what comes after death. 

He isn't alone though, a hand on his shoulder grabbing his attention. He smiles when he sees Eret there and the two share a moment of silence, Wilbur needs to be certain Eret is willing to risk his life for this operation. 

"You can leave," Wilbur says, steadier than his hand. 

"I know," Eret looks up at the prison, "You've told me a million times now but do you think I'd come here without _some_ sense of self-preservation?" 

"What?" 

He doesn't get an answer, Eret merely gestures behind them and over the grasslands, people are spotted in the distance. They're sporting axes and shields and swords, shimmering with enchantment magic in the broad daylight. There are faces Wilbur doesn't remember in great detail, names he can only just place to them but it's an overwhelming amount of support when he had been certain he'd be going into this alone. 

"I am the king of the SMP, I ought to use my power for something for once, right?" Eret chuckles, waving when two of his knights approach. "I asked Puffy and HBomb to gather anyone who was willing to join us, it won't be easy to take down Dream, especially with Punz and Sam being here." 

Puffy stood strong despite her short stature, sword in hand with a grin, "Ready when you are, guys. Let's go get back our people, yeah?" 

The wildfire had spread throughout the people and it would engulf the SMP, burning it to the ground. Wilbur was now another ember to the bonfire that was the people of this world, he wasn't alone anymore. 

"Let's do this." 

_(The battle won't be easy, the prison is made to be inescapable. I am determined to prove that wrong.)_

The plan wasn't perfect, no plan ever was. It was simple though and that's what they needed. 

"I need five people with me, the fighters who can hold out the most," Wilbur called out, knowing his options were limited. There was a sense of deja vu here, ordering men and he could feel the coattails of an old uniform behind him for a split second. 

Eret unclasped his mantle, letting it pool at his feet before coming forward, "I'm coming with you, Wilbur."

A subtle nod, understanding as it would be this way from the moment their paths entwined again. 

There was a moment of hesitation before Hbomb stepped up, the curl of his smile friendly but there was always something strange about him. It didn't matter though, Wilbur needed people now more than ever. 

"Me and Puffy will go too," HBomb looked over at his friend who nodded, stepping forward himself. That made four of them thus far, just two more volunteers. 

Eret prepared to speak, ready to ask for the assistance of others when Jack and Niki pushed their way through the crowd.

"We want to fight too!" Niki demanded, her gentle voice warped with desperate rage, "L'Manberg is our home too, Dream can't do as he pleases and expect us not to fight back!" 

"Are you sure, Niki?" Wilbur reached out, clenching his fist when Niki took a tentative step back. She was uncertain but not about this fight, about him and she had every reason to feel as such. He didn't push it, steeling himself to look over at Jack, "You as well?" 

"Maybe you'll remember me this time if I do," Jack laughed, nervous but determined. "Third time's a charm." 

Both the spirit and king were taken aback, it felt like the old days of L'Manberg. The first war for their country. It only felt right to bring Niki and Jack along. 

"Alright then, grab all the milk you can; get a good pickaxe and make sure you're geared up. This won't be easy." 

_(The page is empty, save for a few stray ink blots.)_

First, have four people mine through the obsidian while the other two mine through the blackstone. Keep the milk topped up, timed perfectly to keep the elder guardian's mining fatigue at bay. 

The alarm was triggered, the noise cutting through the air with a razor sharpness. They had a limited amount of time now, burrowing their way through the walls as fast as possible before breaking into the main prison. 

Wilbur nodded at Hbomb and Puffy, "Go kill the guardians then use the sponges to soak up the water!" 

"Got it, we won't be long!" Puffy called back, ears twitching as she went to catch up with Hbomb. 

That left Wilbur with his three friends at his back, making their way through the last layers in an effort to reach the stasis chambers. From there, they'd have to destroy them and take out any guards that came for their heads. The only real threat looming over them would be if Dream himself appeared. 

"We're almost there, guys," Jack's pickaxe came swinging down, breaking through the last layer of obsidian with a wild grin. Pushing his hat up and looking over at Wilbur with a languid gesture to the opening he'd created, "After you, General Soot!" 

"God, you're so annoying," Wilbur laughed, shoving Jack with a light push before climbing in. He pulled Techno's axe from his back as he entered the room, ready for a fight, "Coast is clear, everyone be on your guard." 

Jack followed, with Niki close behind and Eret watching their backs. The stasis chambers were dark and suffocatingly silent, just the gentle _swish_ of water and their footsteps reverberating throughout the room. 

"Wilbur?" 

The spirit spun around, eyes locked on Sam from across the room as the lights triggered on. The man was geared for a fight, the prison warden himself coming to greet them. 

Wilbur knew he wasn't a bad man, Sam had been generous and kind to those throughout the lands and he was a hard worker who put his blood, sweat and tears into everything he did. Sam was in their way though, he'd have to go. 

"Sam, walk away," Eret spoke up, stepping in to shield Wilbur and the others, "I would hate for us to lose our lives here." 

"You know I can't do that, Eret…" Sam straightened up, a little _hiss_ as his skin crackled with explosive energy. "Punz, Bad! I've found them in the stasis chambers!" 

A trident swings down and clatters against the blade of Eret's sword, a struggle ensuing between the king and the engineer. Wilbur knows Eret has yet to lose a life and neither has Sam, both are strong and both survive the worst. One of them won't come out of this unscathed though. 

"Jack, break the chambers!" Wilbur yells, axe in hand before he rushes in and slides along the smooth floor, taking Sam's legs out from under him. 

Footsteps approach them and Wilbur doesn't see anything but a blur as Niki charges, shield in one hand and axe in the other. She isn't as fighter by nature, always gentle and sweet but there is a fire in her and Wilbur knows this is a woman with nothing to lose. There is no hesitation when Niki goes straight for Bad's head, determined to keep him backed against the door. 

Wilbur is quick to his feet, leaving Sam and Eret to their fight as he goes and catches Punz' axe against the handle of his own. Pulling a potion from his belt, he doesn't hesitate to smash it into the side of the mercenary's face. 

The blond reels back, coughing and spluttering from the liquids. He puts up his shield before Wilbur can swing his axe into his shoulder, effectively driving it into the wood and iron of the shield instead. 

The world speeds up, the fury of battle heats Wilbur's empty vessel of a soul. The shouting and the scraping of netherite against netherite fills the air. He can feel Niki's rage burn the air around her, her body aglow with strength potions as she recklessly fights back and he can see the unbending will of Eret as he keeps Jack safe from Sam, blood staining regal clothing when the trident catches him. 

It only slows down when Sam finds an opening and goes forward. It's a split second but it'd be enough to end one of Eret's lives. Wilbur doesn't waste time, flickering and fading as he pushes Punz back and rushes over. 

He feels the trident push through his back, blue pooling out of his mouth like a waterfall as he coughs it up. He's drowning but he's burning, the experience is as painful as the first time Phil stabbed him. It saved Eret though, that's what matters.

He watches the trident pull out of his body before everything goes black, a void underneath his feet. He'll be back soon, he's never here for long. 

He sees a figure or two in the distance, watching him. He doesn't say hello this time. 

_(I've noticed that every time I die, I always see someone there. Strange, isn't it? I never catch their name.)_

He's back on the outskirts of the prison where he can see withers raining down hellfire on the building. People are fighting, it's war again and it's familiar in the worst ways when he sees blood and fire across the terrain. 

Wilbur can't waste time though, his friends are inside and he has to free everyone before Dream arrives. Their time is limited, every second counts for what they're trying to achieve. 

He rushes through the battlefield, evading sight of the withers as he finds another hole in the walls. He follows the sounds of fighting in the distance, turning corners and checking down passages. 

"Niki? Jack?" Wilbur cups his hands and yells out to them, "Eret?" 

That's when he sees him, staring up at a large door with no easy way in and presumably, no way out. 

"Dream…" 

Dream turns on his heel, mask lifted so the glow of his green skin illuminates the dim hallway. It's eerie and unnatural, the way his face is without features until he wills them into being. Large, empty eyes and a wicked grin that is all teeth. 

"Wilbur, you surprise me," the strange entity pulls out his sword seemingly from nowhere, magic rippling along the blade. The name Nightmare is fitting for such a weapon, "I thought we were friends." 

"You destroyed my home, you led me down further into the depths of my own madness," Wilbur took a tentative step back, he wasn't armed right now. "You immortalise a cycle of war but call yourself a man of order and peace; you're an omen of destruction and chaos that you claim to hate!" 

"Such harsh words from a ghost of a war criminal; tell me, Wilbur, who led children into war? Who let Tommy sacrifice his life in a duel he couldn't hope to win?" 

Dream descended upon him, sword pressed against the cold, dead flesh of his neck. There was nothing but mockery in those eyes and staring back at him, Wilbur saw who he once was. 

"Who was the man that tried to rig an election and when he _lost_ , he started a coup in an attempt to reclaim his lost power? Who was the man that blew up the same country he built with his very hands after going mad and pushing his allies and friends away?" 

There was a heavy silence, the tension foul and uncomfortable because in the end, Dream was right. Wilbur had done so much bad in his days as a living man, he had many regrets weighing on his shoulders. 

Reaching up, Wilbur pushed the sword back as he curled his fingers around the blade, "I remember everything now, Dream and you know what? I know what I did wrong and I won't try to justify my actions, only try to do what I feel is right for those I've hurt." 

Staring the man down, "I can't say the same for you."

The silence between them shattered as Dream laughed, wholeheartedly and in such a way that felt human that it was unnerving. Wilbur frowned, brow knitting together as he watched him clutch his stomach, blade drawn away from the spirit. 

When Dream finally managed to catch his breath, wiping away a tear from his eye, the man grinned wickedly with amusement. 

"How mature you've grown in my absence, spirit," Dream cooed mockingly before reaching out and gripping Wilbur's sweater, pulling him so close that Wilbur could feel the warmth of his breath on him. His hand trailed down Wilbur's chest, making the spirit tense under his touch until Dream's fingers tapped against where the scar on his chest is. 

"I wonder how it would feel a second time," his voice was silk but the words were threatening, a spider's silk trying to weave puppet strings around Wilbur. 

"It would feel like agony," Wilbur swallowed, "but I would just come back. Dead men can't face the consequences of the living. You're fighting a losing battle, Dream." 

Tapping the blade against his chin as he pulled back, Dream studied Wilbur with a look of curiosity. 

"That's true," Dream mused aloud before his sword flickered and disappeared into thin air. "I have a proposition for you then, Wilbur." 

"They say not to make deals with the devil…" 

Dream chuckled, "You may have to, if you care for redeeming your soul; this prison is inescapable for any mortal, your little makeshift army is at the mercy of my men and myself no matter how hard you try to fight back and if it comes to it, I could always kill everyone _one by one_ until you get the message."

Wilbur tensed, watching as Dream circled him as he spoke, "What do you want, Dream?" 

The green figure stopped dead in his tracks in front of Wilbur, "I will free everyone within these prison walls and I swear on the lives of everyone here, no harm will come to those who have opposed me tonight but on one condition; you will take their place." 

This man-- no, this _monster_ was truly trying to use his friends and family against him, threatening their lives knowing that Tommy and Phil only had one left at their disposal.

Wilbur would take the place of those in the prison. His sole confinement would mean freedom for those unjustly imprisoned. It would mean the one person Dream had no chance of killing would be lost to the eternal horrors of confinement for eternity. 

It would mean their freedom though. 

"Do we have a deal, Wilbur?" 

Wilbur looked at the outstretched hand, hesitant before he reached forward. He sealed the deal. 

"We have a deal, Dream." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to try and come up with a believable plan by reading up on Pandora's Vault and god, Sam is a redstone genius because I don't understand half of it.
> 
> (Oh, and if anybody wants me to write any interactions between any two SMP characters, hit me up on tumblr! I'm SaintPyrite on there too!)


End file.
